Free False Pretenses by Kathy Herman Page B

stomach. There was only one way to fix this. It wouldn’t be easy. But how could it be any harder being blackmailed?

CHAPTER 8
    Zoe opened the door and stepped out on the Broussards’ half of the gallery that jutted out over the sidewalk at Zoe B’s. The sun had disappeared beneath the horizon, leaving the western sky ablaze with streaks of orangey pink and purple.
    She clutched the portable phone so hard her knuckles were white. Could she pull this off? She waited until she heard Pierce’s footsteps coming in her direction, then put the phone to her ear.
    “No, I’m glad you called,” she said louder than she intended to. “I-I’m just so shocked. Tell her husband how sorry I am. I’ll see y’all tomorrow. Bye.”
    Pierce came up behind her and put his arms around her, his cheek next to hers. “I didn’t hear the phone ring. What’s wrong, babe?”
    She paused, her palm so sweaty she thought the phone might slide out of her hand. “My friend Annabelle—the gal I roomed with when I worked for her parents’ restaurant in Morgan City—died Monday night of viral pneumonia. Her funeral’s tomorrow afternoon. I just can’t believe she’s dead. She was only thirty-seven, same as us. She had a husband and two little kids. It’s just awful.”
    “I’m so sorry,” Pierce said. “Who called to tell you?”
    “Her brother, Wyatt.” She turned around in Pierce’s arms and gazed into his trusting brown eyes. She had to make him believe her. “He spent a lot of time trying to find me. He knew I’d want to know.”
    “That was thoughtful. I heard you say you’ll see him tomorrow. Are you going to the funeral?”
    “I think I should. It’s at eleven at Holy Cross Catholic Church in Morgan City. Wyatt asked if I could come out to the house afterward and spend some time with the family. Could you cover for me tomorrow? I know it’s your day off. I hate to ask.”
    “Of course I will.” Pierce kissed her cheek. “Do what you need to do. I can handle things here.”
    “Thanks. I don’t deserve you.”
    “Hey, we’re a team, remember? My turn to carry the ball.”
    Zoe blinked the stinging from her eyes. If things went the way she hoped, maybe it would be the last time she had to deceive Pierce like this.
    “I hear someone in the hallway,” he said.
    “It’s probably the Langleys. They said they’d knock on our door after they got Carter to bed. I want to know what the sheriff had to say.”

    Zoe sat next to Pierce on the couch in their apartment and took a sip of sweet tea, listening to Vanessa retell the details of her late-afternoon conversation with Sheriff Jude Prejean and Deputy Stone Castille.
    “That’s about it.” Vanessa turned her ear toward the open front door as if she were listening for Carter. “I gave the sheriff the key to Langley Manor, and they were supposed to go out and investigate and get back to us. I’m sure we’ll hear something tomorrow.”
    “Did you get the impression,” Pierce said, “that Jude thinks there’s a connection between the intruder at the manor house and the hanging?”
    “He wouldn’t say.” Vanessa glanced over at Ethan. “We’re still not sure there even was an intruder at our place. I’m eager to know whether they found DNA on the lemon drop or collected any trace evidence from the closet. I’m more and more suspicious that someone was in the house.”
    “I don’t know what to make of the twig incident.” Ethan took Vanessa’s hand. “But I think having the sheriff investigate further is important if we’re ever going to have peace of mind.”
    “So do I,” Zoe said.
    “Let’s not forget the bigger issue.” Pierce leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. “The note on the deputy’s windshield was obviously put there to rile the white community. Why? We haven’t had any serious racial unrest in years.”
    “The sheriff hasn’t actually confirmed there was a note,” Vanessa said.
    “He didn’t deny it either,